


Nighthawks

by Adox



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Child Abuse, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, a bit of OOC, past yang/neptune
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 02:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11049387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adox/pseuds/Adox
Summary: “I don’t drink, blondie.”“Oh.” That was pretty simple, but added yet another layer of ‘what the fuck’ to his character. “If you’re not here to drink your feelings away, what are you even here for?” she wondered. Aloud. Shit.“I told you, blondie- I was just…” he trailed off, perusing his word choices- as if he had a word bank of vague statements just floating around his head. “I was just getting away.”--Alternatively; a chance encounter at a lonely diner at 3 AM. (Modern Day AU)





	Nighthawks

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so I wanted to get on the yangmerc fic train with this oneshot. It is a bit ooc, since I wanted to be able to use it as a stand alone short story, for school or competitions and such if I changed the names. It's based on Edward Hopper's paintings, specifically "Nighthawks" (hence the name). Give feedback if you enjoyed, and/or if you are interested in a sequel or another Yangmerc fic by yours truly. Enjoy~

 

The blaring, synthetic lights of the diner contrasted heavily from the dark city outside. Freshly wiped down tables reflected the white light, it even smelled like those lemon scented Lysol wipes; and the whole place was just so clean. The puddles forming in the street, the raindrops racing each other down foggy windows, the dark and dirty reality of it all- was nice to look at in comparison to the harsh lighting. They shared one thing though; their complete and utter loneliness.

 

Yang downed another drink, her third that night, and slammed the glass back onto the bar in front of her. Her eyes, bright in color but lacking in their usual optimism, followed trails left by raindrops- trying to decipher the pictures they made.

 

“Another,” she requested, looking up at the bartender, who just raised an eyebrow as he fetched her more of the toxins she insisted on putting in her body. She gave him a wink, “Thanks.” He just shook his head in reply.

 

It always took her awhile, and a lot of liquor to really get drunk– her uncle had a wicked tolerance, and she heard that his sister could even drink him under the table, but Yang never knew for sure. She assumed that she never would. She stared into the amber liquid, and watched the white lights sparkle off of the glass and split into shards of bronze, humming softly, wondering how she got to this point. How she stooped so low.

 

The bartender didn’t even seem to care, he continued to wash and reorganize glasses into no recognizable pattern, as he had been for the past few hours. He did it purposelessly, and out of what Yang could only assume was habit or boredom. There hadn’t been anyone else in the diner for over a half an hour and that lack of presence was noticeable in the silence. The last people to leave were a pair of drunk girls who had taken solace there after what would be thought of as a pretty rough party. They laughed and laughed and told stories.

 

Yang never really listened in on people’s conversations before, rather opting to join them, not wanting to be on the outside, not wanting to be a listener. However she didn’t feel any pull towards the two, and listened to their gossip halfheartedly until they left; she then only had the pattering of rain and her own internal struggle to entertain herself with.

 

 Of course she could always call home. But she wouldn’t.

 

Her phone was placed haphazardly next to her drink, it’s case gold and scratched up. When it vibrated again, she turned away. She knew what it was. **_45 MISSED CALLS FROM Ruby_** _, **20 MISSED CALLS FROM Ice Queen, 27 MISSED CALLS FROM Blakey.**_

****

There wasn’t a point in answering, as she didn’t really have an answer, and doubted she ever would. She wanted to maintain that illusion of carefree naiveté that she wore. She wanted to rid herself of that clawing guilt bubbling under her skin and radiating from her stomach- even if just for a little while.

But in the end, she just stared at the door, longingly. Even if this tenebrous-inducing, _nobody_ of a diner was her self-proclaimed haven from the outside world, there always came that curiosity pertaining to the unknown. It was a lose-lose situation: if she was outside, she’d have to face it, and if she stayed inside she’d have nothing to face. Nothing except for her goddamn drink, of course.

 

Eventually the door clicked open, waking Yang out of her daze and filling her with a sort of eagerness in finding out who else would be in such a sorry state that they’d hang out in an empty diner at three o’ clock in the morning. Though it seemed drawn out in her head, the person who entered the diner didn’t really _enter,_ per say, but rather barged in. He shoved the door open with an exhausted form of strength and bolted inside, scrambling to the booth farthest away from the entrance.

 

The bartender looked over at the guy with a puzzled expression before going back to cleaning his apparently precious glassware. Yang guessed that he assumed that the guy would come up to him if he needed a drink, and his assumptions were probably correct. He looked like he needed to breathe for a few minutes before downing the five gallons of whiskey he was probably going to order (from the look of him, he needed it).

 

Yang approved of him visually, whoever he was. It was hard for her to get a good look at the stranger from the angle she was at, but Yang would admit that any view of this guy wasn’t regrettable. From what she saw, he was a few inches taller than her, with a silver shock of hair that he had slicked out of his eyes, aided by the residual rain in keeping it there. To contrast with his pale skin and hair, his eyes held two, ink colored irises that pierced a hole through whatever space he was staring into.

 

Maybe it was the alcohol kicking in, or her reigning mantra of “you only live once”, but she felt compelled to approach the stranger. She hopped down from the barstool, hastily grabbing her most-likely vibrating phone and shoving it in her pocket. She walked with an unsure hop in her step as she approached the booth that he had made his own, wringing her fingers indecisively behind her back.

 

He was off in his own little world, onyx eyes not really all there as they stared out the window. His angular chin had perched itself on the crook of a calloused palm, and his chest still shook as he took each shaky breath- it was as if he had run here. He didn’t look up until she had fully moved in sitting across from him, bouncing slightly on the cherry vinyl cushion of the seat.

 

“Hi,” she waved a bit, eyes darting around in avoidance of the death glare emitting from those of the other party.

 

“What do you want?” he phrased it more like a statement than a question really, “I’m not in the mood for sex right now…” he trailed off, before looking her up and down “Besides, I don’t have any spare change at the moment, sorry.”

 

His mouth curled into a smirk as Yang’s awkward smile fell into an offended scowl, “I was just being friendly, I’m not a fucking _prostitute._ ”

 

He chuckled dryly before picking his head off of his hand, and stretching his arms out above him. “You certainly have the hours… and the mouth of one,” he drawled, and really Yang wasn’t sure how she should’ve taken that statement. His bristling personality she had witnessed just moments earlier had swiftly been replaced by a much more flirtatious and sociable demeanor, and while it was definitely hot, it reminded her of a certain someone a little too much.

 

Of course she didn’t voice these thoughts, and just followed his statement up with her own retribution, “thank you, don’t mind if I try it out on you?” And as his dark eyebrows shot up in pleasant surprise, she smirked, “two can play at that game you know.”

 

“I have a better two player game we can play,” he quickly shot back, before realizing that he had said that out loud and quickly looked away.

 

Yang shook her head slightly before smiling and looking him directly in his eyes, “I meant that I’d talk your ear off.” Once she spoke, the guy burst out into laughter- which Yang definitely considered a win in her book.

 

“You’re a strange one, blondie,” he leant back into the bench, running his right hand through his hair. From the dark color of his eyebrows, Yang guessed that he had dyed it, or he was some kind of anime character. After he got the excess locks out of his eyes, Yang finally spotted the shiner he was sporting, which had yet to really darken, but was still noticeable.

 

She ignored it and held out her hand, “Yang, actually. My name is Yang.” He gave the offered handshake a sort of stink-eye, but accepted it anyways, with extreme hesitance. After performing that customary act of greeting, he shot his hand back into his pocket and sat there a moment in silence. Yang rolled her eyes, “this is where you introduce yourself you know. That’s how this conversation thing works.”

 

He just smirked and shook his head, turning his gaze towards the rain patterned window, sighing silently. Yang watched him, trying to decipher his story from his demeanor, trying to figure him out. Sure, she was good with people but she was rubbish at reading them, so her endeavor was pointless, and she resorted to just following his eyes as they moved in tandem with the rain outside. It was awhile before she spoke again.

 

“What’re you doing in this place this late– or early, anyways?” she asked, not really looking at the guy, but rather her own fingers as they drummed against the table. It was a pretty off-hand question.

 

“I think the same question applies to you, Blondie.”

 

“Yang,” she corrected, before continuing, “I asked first though. Spill whatever beans you have.”

 

“I needed to get away, I guess,” he answered vaguely, pupils dilating as he blurred his vision and stared into ghosts of objects that were never really there.

 

“From what?” Yang pressed, leaning into his space, showing her curiosity in a physical manner. In response, the guy clicked his tongue, and smirked.

 

“Your turn, blondie.”

 

She rolled her eyes and thought for a moment, staring into her own ghosts. She shrugged, repeating his earlier statement, “I needed to get away, I guess.”

 

“Touché,” he chuckled dryly, but she cut whatever sarcastic remark he had planned off with a wave.

 

“I’m not done, because I’m not an ambiguous asshole,” she proclaimed, looking to him for a gesture to continue, which he supplied. “I needed to get away, so I ran. I ran because I couldn’t deal with commitment, with anything.”

 

“That’s equally ambiguous, blondie.”

 

 In reply she gave him a glare and flipped him off. At least she embellished what “getting away” meant to her. Once again they fell into silence. She didn’t even know his name, or anything about him, other than his quick wit and tendency to stare off into space- and he sure as hell didn’t know anything about her, except for her name. Staring down at her hands, Yang fiddled with the ring adorning her left hand. His eyebrows perked at her awkward action and he cleared his throat uncomfortably.

 

“Uh- you’re married?” His voice sort of heightened as he asked it, but he visibly relaxed when she shook her head.

 

“I was supposed to. Be married. Today.” She grew more and more choppy with each word, meanwhile prying the ring off her finger. It was small, but intricate as it sparkled under the bright lights, and she was surprised that he hadn’t noticed it until now. When it left her finger, it felt like a handcuff coming off; the tan-line was obvious underneath like a residual scar of her mistakes. “I just couldn’t deal with it…Didn’t even show up.”

 

“Left ‘em at the altar? Shit,” he whistled, impressed and surprised. “Didn’t think you were that kind of person, blondie.”

 

Yang glared at him for a moment, fist curling up- fingers digging mercilessly into her palm. Her hand inevitably slacked though, and she looked down at the little reddish crescent moons now decorating her palm.

 

“I didn’t either.”

 

She sighed and ran her fingers through her thick blonde locks, not even stopping at each kink- rather ripping through the tangle of gold erupting from her mind. The guy across from her followed suit, though he did it out of what Yang assumed was habit- rather than frustration. He didn’t have to rip through anything, his hair was so soft. She had an urge to run her own fingers through it, but then remembered that he was a stranger and she was a deadbeat, and that her overly sexual mind needed to be subdued.

 

“Why’d you leave then? The pressure get to you or somethin’?” He asked, charcoal irises not meeting her own lilac ones. “I hear a lot of stories about those.”

 

“No, I don’t think so,” she answered, voice trailing as she thought. She wasn’t even sure herself, she realized, and that just angered her more than anything. “I think if it were that, I would have called everyone back by now.” She extended her fingers and crunched them inwards, as if observing something she had never seen before.

 

The guy hummed and eventually met her gaze. “So you’re just lounging in here until you figure it out?” When she nodded, biting her lip, he shrugged, “I can get behind that.”

 

She giggled a little at his remark before waving over to the bartender, who rolled his eyes and began pouring her more of the drink she’d been staring at earlier. “You want something? On me,” she asked, turning back to the silver haired guy.

 

“Nah,” he gulped, Adam’s apple bobbing a little bit- prompting a spare drop of water to drip off of it and onto the collar of his shirt. When she gave him her signature raised-eyebrow he rolled his eyes “I don’t drink, blondie.”

 

“Oh.” That was pretty simple, but added yet another layer of ‘what the fuck’ to his character. “If you’re not here to drink your feelings away, what are you even here for?” she wondered. Aloud. Fuck.

 

“I _told_ you, blondie- I was just…” he trailed off, perusing his word choices- as if he had a word bank of vague statements just floating around his head. “I was just getting away.”

 

“So was _I,_ but alcohol is a monumentally important step in the ‘getting away’ process, Silver.”

 

He raised an eyebrow, “Silver?”

 

She shrugged, giving him the iconic ‘Yang wink’, “You call me blondie, and I don’t know your name. I just compromised!”

 

He laughed- his laugh was dry and held a sort of pure tone that she’d never expected to hear coming from him. “Fair enough.”

 

Yang narrowed her eyes, lips squishing together into a pout, “that was supposed to be the point where you told me your name. So I wouldn’t call you that anymore. Don’t you know how conversation works?” And he just laughed and laughed, somehow seeming drunker than she was. And he hadn’t even ordered anything.

 

She ended up voicing those thoughts and he eventually managed to quell his laughter to reply. “Sorry, Yang, you’re just…” his eyes rolled back a bit into his skull in search of his next statement, “you’re just different.”

 

She gave him another eyebrow raise before he sighed out a “I like it, I think.”

 

“You’re not trying to pick me up right after I told you I was going through a romantic crisis. _Right?_ ” she growled, gritting her teeth together, and clenching her fist- somehow tighter than before. She suppressed a blush with all the ease of shoving a porcupine up one’s ass.

 

He looked almost surprised, jolting a bit upward before slinking back down into his booth corner. “You were the one who thought that thought, blondie, not me.”

 

She sighed and settled into her own corner, trying to make out the indiscernible shapes outside, and trying to make out the indiscernible shapes inside her head. The guy didn’t follow suit, seemingly tired of staring off into space. Instead he stared at her, and trailed his gaze around each lock of hair, each sun-induced freckle, and each curve of her ballpoint nose.

 

She eventually spoke up again, breaking the silence that had rebuilt itself around the diner. “Do you think it was wrong of me? To run away.”

 

“I don’t know you, so I can’t answer that, blondie.” Back to that name again. Great. “The question is if _you_ think it was wrong.”

 

Yang pursed her lips, biting down on the inside of her mouth as she looked down at her hands- which were clinging, frustrated around the denim of her jeans. “What if I do? I don’t regret it, I don’t think- but I feel horrible! I shouldn’t have even accepted his proposal if I wasn’t going to hold true to it.” Her voice was shaking as she spoke- her whole body was.

 

“There’s your answer. You aren’t a bad person if you feel bad about it, you were just doing right by yourself. No harm in that,” he drawled, right hand gesturing to whatever he was saying as if the concept were a tangible object. Meanwhile, his left had been once again demoted to ‘honorary cheek holder’. “But I am curious why you didn’t go through with it, or why you said yes to start with.”

 

Yang blinked invisible tears out of her eyes, thinking back to that morning- to the lace she wore and the flowers she ripped apart, and started to speak. “I… We dated throughout all of high school- we were the power couple I guess. ‘Yang and Neptune’, destined to be the sexiest relationship alive.” She stopped to roll her eyes, and the guy’s eyebrows raised a bit. She continued.

 

“I mean everyone sort of expected us to get married one day, it was just kind of a _thing_ that family and friends alike were already preparing for. I mean the two of us were joined at the hip, crashing a different party each night and having _lots_ of drunken sex.” She cringed when she mentioned that to him, but he got there first.

 

“TMI blondie.”

 

“Right,” she sighed, before cracking her knuckles on the pristine table. “Anyways, when he proposed after freshman year- of college, I sort of felt obligated to say yes. And I was excited at first, really, I was but…” She trailed off, eyes drooping downwards to her thighs, exposed through the excessive ripping of her jeans. “But I guess I didn’t want a relationship formed around partying and drugs and sex for my whole life, y’know? I mean he probably proposed just to justify the whole thing to his overly catholic parents.”

 

The guy stared at her for a moment before leaning back farther into his seat, face parallel to the ceiling. His pupils were still aimed at her, either to escape the scrutiny of that lighting, or to look at her as he spoke. “At least it’s better than you chickening out after you’re already married. That would suck even more for both of you.”

 

“That’s partially why I-“ she was cut off by the bartender sliding her order to her casually before sauntering away. After wrapping her hands stressfully around the glass, she continued, “partially why I left… I didn’t want to be like her.”

 

“Her?” He interrupted, before raising his hands in mock-surrender as she glared at him. “Sorry! Sorry. Just… wires aren’t connecting right now. I’m not a shrink, blondie.”

 

Yang sighed and nodded before spilling, “my mother left my dad. No word or anything, I don’t even remember her face. Sure he remarried but… She never tried to contact or even apologize to me! She didn’t even come to the wedding, or turn down my invitation either. Just… Nothing!” As she spoke, her voice grew higher and louder, and her grip on the cup tightened to a point where she could feel the glass beginning to give in under her anger.

 

“Don’t I know the feeling…” He mumbled, gaze leaving her in favor of that window. It was an offhand comment, but it told Yang enough to speak up.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration; unsure of what to say. “My mother ran off too- I don’t really blame her but…”

 

Yang furrowed her brow, licking her lips and letting saliva burn through each crack. She didn’t expect him to open up like that so suddenly- it was surprising and intriguing. “Why don’t you blame her? She left you!”

 

“I’m not gonna spill my whole life story to you, blondie,” he snapped, clenching his jaw- which led to the shifting of neck muscles and reveal of rather prominent bruises peppering his collarbone.

 

“You have a girlfriend? Those are some nice marks you have there.” She changed the subject for both of their sakes, but immediately realized her mistake when his gaze visibly darkened. He swiftly pulled his collar up to once again cover the marks. “What, you break up or something?”

“No,” he spat, eyes narrowing with an added hostility that Yang had yet to see.

 

Yang decided that talking about any overly personal matter was only alright if he was the one listening, rather than speaking. She decided to dramatically light up the bleak atmosphere surrounding the two and spoke once again after a few minutes. “Wanna play 20 questions?”

 

He raised an eyebrow, which seemed to be in character for him (along with running fingers through his hair and biting his bottom lip in frustration) before shrugging, “as long as you don’t ask me about any of what you’ve been asking about.”

 

Of course that’d be a rule. As much as she wanted to pry into that shell he had built for himself, she nodded anyways and came up with her first question. She smirked as she spoke, “I wanted to know your name, Silver.”

 

“That’s not a question, blondie.”

 

“Fine. What’s your name?”

 

“Mercury.”

 

It suited him. It went with his constantly shifting, mercurial personality (pun intended); it went with his color scheme and it rolled off his tongue with an eloquence that sent chills up Yang’s spine. She repeated it back to him, “Mercury, huh?” and enjoyed how it felt in her mouth. “Your turn.”

 

He looked at the ceiling, pondering what he’d ask, pupils dilating in the harsh fluorescent lights when he didn’t look away. “Who’s been calling you this whole time?” When she froze he continued, “don’t think I haven’t noticed you scowling at your phone, or the billions of vibrations it’s giving off.”

 

Yang’s lips pulled themselves into a pout. “Just my family and friends, wondering where I ran off to on my wedding day.”

 

“Ah, so typical Yang stuff?” he joked, smirking slightly to lighten the mood.

 

“Yeah.” Her voice was humorless but she smiled in appreciation at Mercury. He didn’t judge her for what she did, he didn’t seem to care at all. She was glad someone out there could make her feel like an okay person and not a complete bitch. “My turn…” she quickly added, changing the subject again. “Do you have any siblings?”

 

Mercury shook his head with a soft laugh. “No I- I don’t. I have a friend who’s like a sister to me but…” he trailed off, “that question came out of nowhere. Why were you curious?”

 

Yang shrugged, “we both have deadbeat mothers, I was wondering if we shared another family thing! I have a little sister, Ruby, she means the world to me.”

 

Mercury nodded, but his expression quickly turned to confusion. “I thought your mom left after you were born? How can you have a little sister?” He made a motion with his hands that implied his statement to be his next question.

 

“She’s my half-sister really, but since my step mom married my dad when I was really little, I practically grew up with her as my real mom and ergo-- Ruby, my sister.”

 

“Who do you consider your real mom then? Biological or step?”

 

“Step, obviously. There might’ve been a time where I’d have answered differently, when all I wanted was to meet the woman who gave birth to me but, now I’m over that.” Yang’s contemplative expression morphed into a smirk “I get to ask two questions now since you just asked two in a row!”

 

Mercury pantomimed an “oh snap” gesture but made it obvious that he didn’t particularly care.

 

“So…” she thought for a few moments, not sure what to ask. “Speaking of family stuff… You live with your father then?”

 

Yang realized about halfway through her question that it was a mistake. Mercury seemed to get where it was going at around “speaking of,” and visibly reacted; looking away and gripping the table so hard that his knuckles turned a stark white. He didn’t answer for a few moments, but let out a quiet “No. Not anymore, I don’t think.”

 

“You don’t think?”

 

He shrugged, “do you want that to be your second question?”

 

No she didn’t. “Fine then. Why don’t you live with him anymore? You go to college now? Far away from home?”

 

He ran his hand through his hair again, out of what Yang could only guess was anxiety. “He’s dead.”

 

“Oh. I’m sorry…” She trailed off, not knowing what to say. She didn’t meet his eyes until he spoke again.

 

“I’m not.”

 

Yang’s head snapped towards him at the comment, leaning into his space, mind brimming with curiosity. Based on his previous behavior, she would’ve expected him to shy away from her closeness or brush it off with a cold look- but he didn’t. Instead he looked her directly in the eyes, his own piercing, and full of… of _something_ that Yang just couldn’t place. She gulped, “Why?”

 

“It happened recently. Guess it hasn’t set in.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

 

“Maybe it is.” He leaned closer, voice now only a gravely whisper; strong yet uncertain.

 

“You’re tough to figure out,” she reached out and poked his nose playfully- and pretended not to notice the flinch he gave in response. “But I think I’ve got it.”

 

“Really now?”

 

She nodded, glancing down for a moment and breaking their stare to contemplate something. She wasn’t sure what brought on her next actions; the alcohol, her loneliness, or the enigma that was sitting in front of her—but she found herself with her lips against his within seconds. It wasn’t long before he returned the affection and intertwined his long fingers with the expanse of curls at the back of her head, pulling her in farther.

 

The kiss was rough, impulsive, and out of pure need for some kind of affection. Somehow, the moment that their lips touched, everything she was feeling; guilt, loneliness, uncertainty—all of it dissipated. She was sure that her own mouth tasted like alcohol, but was surprised at the taste in his. She tasted blood, or remnants of it—when her tongue inevitably explored the new expanse of Mercury’s mouth, Yang swore she could feel a gash. Not a sore or anything like that- but the kind of wound you’d get after getting repeatedly punched in the face. When they separated, she found herself on his side of the table.

 

“Your mouth is bleeding,” she immediately said, more out of curiosity than in insult- which came through in her tone of voice. “Are you hurt?”

 

He moved his tongue through his mouth until he found what she was talking about, “I guess I am—it doesn’t hurt though.”

 

Yang gave him a funny look, and he sighed in slight vexation. “Seriously, Yang, I’ve had much worse.”

 

“Did you get a good swing in? In that fight,” he quirked an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes “don’t think I didn’t notice that shiner, or those bruises, or the bloody knuckles you’ve been keeping in your pocket.”

 

“Ouch, am I that obvious?” He joked halfheartedly, eyes drifting off to somewhere else. “He won’t bother me again though so…”

 

“You sure about that?” Yang pushed, keeping her voice as light as possible. “Some people have vendettas or some shit. They might come back angry that you landed a good hit!”

 

“I sincerely doubt that.”

 

He looked down at his hand, inspecting the bruising and bloodstain on his knuckles. He ran a finger across the scrapes and wounds without flinching as he brushed over open sores. “How did your father react when your mother left?” He asked it out of the blue, startling the blonde next to him. She answered anyways, leaning her head on his shoulder and ignoring the flinch that accompanied it.

 

“He… Well he remarried mom first—tried to cover everything up. Hell, I didn’t know until after mom died, and I was nine! Dad shut down for a while, he still took care of us and we knew he loved us but…” She trailed off for a minute, as if flashing back to her childhood. “But that was when we needed him the most, y’know?”

 

“How did your mom die?”

 

“Cancer.” She laughed without any feeling. “Shitty, right?”

 

He acknowledged his agreement with a hum; a deep vibration echoing through his ribcage that harmonized with the rhythm of his heart and the legato of his breaths. Yang put effort into synching her own breathing with his, so it felt more natural as his shoulders subtly rose and fell, taking her resting head along with it. It was awhile before she spoke again.

 

“What about _your_ dad? How’d he take your mom leaving?” She knew it was a selfish question but she needed to figure him out before this… whatever it was ended.

 

He visibly paled before answering, bitterly. “All the things that he did to her, to make her leave—he does them to me instead. Did them to me instead.” He corrected his tenses and Yang felt something in the back of her head, lingering behind her attraction to him, her loneliness, and the alcohol. 

 

It took her a moment to get it, and when the lightbulb finally flickered on, she desperately wanted to smash the thing into pieces and live in perpetual darkness. She inhaled sharply, “Those bruises, they—”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“But you said they were from a fight.”

  
“Yeah.”

 

“You said he was… You said your dad was dead.”

 

He sighed and put his fingers to the bridge of his nose in frustration. Frustration towards her? Yang wasn’t sure. “Yeah.”

 

“And recently… Oh god, Mercury did you—”

 

“Good deduction, Holmes.”

 

Yang took a moment to shy away from him, inching away from his tense, shaking form. She had just conversed with, made out with, and developed a crush on a murderer. Someone who recently killed someone, with presumably his bare hands. Killed someone close to him. His _father._

 

But on the other hand, it was justified. The way he looked into nothing, tensed at her touches and dodged questions. The way he told her explicitly that his father _beat_ him, maybe even did worse than that. The way that he kissed her. Kissed her like she was the only person left in the world- like he had nothing left to lose, and only one thing to win. Her. Or anybody really but, she was there.

 

Though he hated being touched, Mercury was ashamed to see Yang separate from him. Her warmth dissipating as an almost _disgusted_ look passed over her face. He looked away, out the window and at the moths dancing around the streetlamps.

 

They fluttered silently and feebly, somehow knowing how short their lifespans were in comparison to the rest of the world.

 

He tried to keep his hands from shaking like they were.

 

They slammed against the glass encasing the lightbulb, desperately reaching for that unreachable desire, for that happiness that would inevitably burn them alive.

 

He tried not to remember being pinned up against the peeling, plaster walls of the building he couldn’t call home. Tried not to feel the phantom pains of punching and kicking and broken bones, or the years’ worth of hate that built themselves up stronger than any blow.

 

They buzzed around the light, searching for any opening, searching for any answer that’d finally end their suffering.

 

He tried not to remember how _good_ it felt to jam the broken bottle into sweaty, sun scarred flesh. How _free_ he felt as he ran away, only stopping when his legs couldn’t move any more than the few steps needed to enter a diner on the street-corner

 

Eventually the light flickered. Once, twice- and darkness.

 

He tried not to cry.

 

He failed at that. All of it; letting out a small sob as he felt warm arms pull him closer. As he felt her lips on his and he no longer had to remember anything. Yang didn’t really know what she was doing but it felt right so she did it anyways. She didn’t know how much he was shaking until she held him, and though he was much larger than her, he managed to shrink into her embrace effortlessly.

 

“So that’s what you meant… By getting away?”

 

“I…” he thought for a moment, “It was a spur of the moment sort of thing—I just snapped, and next thing you know I’ve killed my father. I needed to… figure out what I’d do next. Call the cops? Pretend it was a break-in and cover it up? Leave the country?”

 

“Those all sound like shitty solutions.”

“Exactly,” he wrung his bloody hands in chagrin “so I needed to get away. Think about it for a bit.”

 

“Did you decide?”

 

“No.”

 

Her phone vibrated again and she ignored it before Mercury rolled his eyes and snatched the phone out of her pocket, smirking devilishly as he clicked “ANSWER” and held it up against Yang’s face. She glared at him, betrayed, but couldn’t hang up at this point (Mercury’s hand covered the button). “Hello?”

 

_“Y-Yang?!”_

She ran a hand through her expanse of blonde locks before sighing and answering. “Hey Rubes.”

 

 _“Oh thank_ god, _we thought you were kidnapped or something! Where are you? The wedding is today! Well it was. What happened?”_

“Settle down Ruby I—that’s a lot of questions, can you give them one at a time?”

 

_“Where are you?”_

“Some diner in the city.”

 

_“Why? The wedding was today!”_

“Ruby I… don’t think I can get married right now. I thought it was right but I am too young, Neptune is too young- I don’t want the rest of my life defined for me this early on! I…”

 

_“Yang.”_

“And I don’t even think I am in love with Neptune anymore! Like, I love him but- I’m not _in_ love with him, y’know? I feel like I’ve been lying for so long and it hurts so much and I wish that I didn’t run away like _she_ did but…”

 

“ _Yanggggg.”_

“But I just felt so wrong. I still do- I feel horrible but I feel free. How sick is that? I don’t even regret ruining his life!”

“ _Yang!”_

“What?”

 

“ _We know you didn’t want to get married. We all disagreed with it anyways, just didn’t want to say anything because we thought you’d be happy. But there was always something… Something wrong.”_

Yang sighed in relief at that, glad that her sister or friends didn’t despise her for her actions.

 

“What about Neptune? How’d he take it?”

 

“ _As well as you’d expect. Where are you? Blake will pick you up.”_

Mercury was listening the whole time, long since abandoning his hold on the device as Yang became more and more engrossed in her conversation. The girl on the other end was kind of loud, like she was talking directly against the microphone, and he could hear practically every word she said, even though the phone wasn’t even on speaker.

 

He stiffened a bit when he heard that Yang would be leaving him. Alone. She noticed his silent struggle and snuggled up to him reassuringly. “I have a few things to take care of first.”

 

“ _Like what? Actually, I don’t want to know. Just call me or Blake when you’re done.”_

“What about Weiss?”

 

Ruby giggled _“She’s a little tired right now…”_

“From wh— oh.”

 

_“Well. See you later sis!”_

“Love you Ruby.”

 

_“Me too Yang.”_

There was a click as she hung up, sighing in relief. Her sister didn’t hate her. Her friends didn’t hate her. She had a feeling that Mercury didn’t hate her. He didn’t seem to when he held her for dear life. His touch was gentle though. He had regained his composure over the course of Yang’s conversation with Ruby, and now stared thoughtfully at her.

 

“I think…” he began by breaking the silence, but fell into a hesitation that lasted longer than a minute. “I think I’ll go to the cops. I think I can say it was self-defense, which it was, and get away with like, 5 years at _most._ I have the scars to prove it- the… abuse.” He said the word with a resignation that didn’t suit him.

 

Yang stared at him in shock before shutting her gaping mouth and giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I… My uncle’s a police officer and his wife is a really good lawyer- I can hook you up,” she suggested and he chuckled.

 

“I can’t afford any lawyer, let alone a good one with connections to the police, Yang.”

 

“They’d do it if it was the right thing to do. For free. Seriously, I…” Trailing off, she let her eyes convey what she needed to say. He got the message and kissed her again, quickly and just in confirming that he felt the same. There was this almost, chemistry between them. The dips in between his fingers fit Yang’s like a glove, and it hurt like hell to feel them go when their lips parted. He looked at her, his eyes not wavering as he said his next words.

 

“I think… I can do this on my own. I always have.”

 

“You don’t have to”

 

“I want to.”

 

She wanted to protest, to scream and to fuck him on the table right there but- but she knew. She somehow knew that he couldn’t do this unless it was alone. She knew that even while he kissed her and whispered into her ear, he was alone- but not lonely. She couldn’t do that, could never live in a world where she was the only thing to focus on, she would lose her mind. Her whole life she distracted herself with others and their needs, and forgot about her own perpetual loneliness. Meanwhile, Mercury stood alone, and would continue to do so without ever learning that touch could be warm and beautiful.

 

The world was so cold.

 

“So is that it?” Mercury gave her a confused look before she elaborated. “I mean is this all that’s gonna happen? You- we’re just going to leave and never meet again? Never kiss, never… Are you gonna be okay? Are we gonna be…?”

 

“Sometimes you need to just let it happen. Maybe I’ll luck out and not have to deal with prison or whatever, or maybe the court system hates me and I’ll get life. Maybe we’ll never meet again, forget each other’s faces- remember the kiss fondly but as a lapse in judgement or…” He reached for her phone and typed something in, it vibrated a few seconds later.

 

**_1 NEW MESSAGE FROM: Ruby_ **

_OK! On my way now_

She read the message Mercury sent— the address of the diner. She looked up to protest, but he was already practically out the door. Before letting it close, before ending it forever he spoke. He spoke softly, but clearly.

 

“… Or maybe we’ll luck out.”

 

The door clicked shut behind him, and though it was a small noise, it sounded like it had just been slammed with every ounce of strength behind Mercury’s muscular arms. She curled into herself, brushing her fingers against her lips, which were still slick from their earlier make out session.

 

Yang was frozen there for awhile, refusing to move or think. After Ruby came, this microcosm she had called home for the past few hours, it would be gone. She’d have to face everything; her friends, family, Neptune, and the fact that she couldn’t do anything for her newfound… acquaintance, despite his obvious need for help.

 

“Yang?”

 

She looked up, seeing the short brunette that topped her “most important people list”, Ruby. Her hair glistened with the dampness of post-rain, and her cheeks were flushed, probably from running inside. Yang sniffled a bit, lilac eyes meeting silver ones- before Ruby managed to pry Yang from the cherry vinyl seat and urge her to the car.

 

Yang slumped into the car seat and looked out at the streetlamp, and the moths still flickering around it. Scrolling through her phone, her thumb froze at Neptune’s contact, debating whether or not to click and confront him. She pressed down but didn’t release her hold, rather opting to jiggle her finger up and down, sort of scrolling through the above few contacts in order to stall further.

 

She froze.

 

There it was; Mercury. His number. There. He must’ve put it in when he messaged Ruby.

 

“ _Maybe we’ll luck out.”_

She inhaled sharply before sighing, relieved. “Maybe.”

 

“What was that?” Ruby asked, head tilting to the side a bit.

 

“Nothing.”

 

She let go.

 

 


End file.
